


in our bedroom, after the war

by inkwelled



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Foreign Language, Gentle Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Married Life, One of My Favorite Tags, Peace, Post-Canon, Post-War, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: His hello is a kiss to the back of Amaya's neck. Gren can almost feel how her face stretches into a smile as he wraps his arms around her collarbone and rests his head in the crook of her shoulder.





	in our bedroom, after the war

**Author's Note:**

> is this just pure gremaya domestic fluff? why yes - yes it is. i don't know why y'all don't just accept that this is my writing career now. note!! danish translations taken from bab.la so hopefully i got it right! this is based solely on min's (xipeuuu on twitter) gremaya artworks. she's an absolute GODDESS and i bow down before her artistic sorcery. 
> 
> [my source of inspiration, thank you min for blessing us with this piece of art that belongs in the louvre](https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/1118651674854293509/1118651669116522497/kAS-1mqW.png:large)

In normal fashion, Amaya's head is bent low when Gren walks in. Her back is towards the door as she sits at the desk, hair brushing her cheekbone.

For a moment he stands in the doorway of their quarters, admiring how peace in Katolis looks on her.

They've lived off rations around a campfire and tent bedrolls for so long that even two years later, peace coming in the form of real meals and mattresses still sounds so foreign. Without training rounds in early-morning dawn and late-night patrols, the circles beneath both of their eyes have vanished.

Gren's noticed how Amaya walks with less suspicion, smiles more. Her shoulders have filled out with the effects of longer and fuller sleep, more calories, training to a healthy extent and nothing more.

They're no longer fighting for their life.

It's been two years since they received word at the Breach to halt the fighting. It's been two years since the Dragon Prince was returned to the Queen of the Dragons, since King Ezran and the Queen declared peace between the Pentarchy and Xadia and the treaties and meetings begun.

Peace was hard-won, even if the war was not.

But General Amaya of the Standing Batallion at the Breach became Captain Amaya of the Crown Guard and Chief Diplomat. Gren, her ever-faithful Commander, followed.

He would follow her anywhere.

Lieutenant Commander Gren became General Gren of the Crown Guard, training soldiers in both the art of the dagger and defense, training their fists as much as their words.

The final night of the peace treaty signing was punctuated with a ball. Elves and humans danced under the same roof, swirling skirts of different colors and hair colors intermingled with horns.

As always, Gren accompanied Amaya, taking her arm and letting her lead him down the stairs, ready to take a backseat of interpreting the night away. He hadn't expected her to catch his elbow later that evening, lead him out to the balcony of the Katolis castle.

Amaya kissed him that night, reached up with one hand to silence his lips and captured them in the next, other gloved hand tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck.

A fierce and fiery blush had worked across his cheeks as wrapped his bare hands around her waist, clad by fine skirts instead of the leather and metal armor he had so grown used to.

Finery was - _is_ \- a good look on her.

Even now, Amaya bends over a field report in nothing more but a grey tunic that falls off one shoulder - Gren suspects its from his drawer - her breast bindings peeking from beneath the back collar. The black trousers are hers, though, one elbow propped on a bent knee that she uses to leverage her leaning head, candle burning low on the table as the sun does in the sky as well.

A spring breeze ruffles Gren's hair.

He crosses the room in a few strides. The desk is set up near the doors that are open, leading to the balcony, letting in the fresh evening air and flutters the curtains.

His hello is a kiss to the back of Amaya's neck. He can almost feel how her face stretches into a smile as he wraps his arms around her collarbone and rests his head in the crook of her shoulder.

_You work too much,_ he signs with one hand and Amaya's laughter shakes her shoulders as she sets down the field report.

She turns slightly. _And you don't?_

_Fair point,_ Gren chuckles. _It's getting late. You coming to bed?_

Amaya turns further and her hand tugs at his tunic as she signs with the other. _Come here and I'll tell you,_ she smiles and without protest, Gren lets her pull him into her lap.

She pecks his lips with a kiss that leaves them both smiling for no reason other than the simple joy of being in the other's presence. Gren's thighs bracket her hips and despite the weight he knows is on her thighs, Amaya tugs him ever-closer and he drapes his forearms over her shoulders and kisses her deeper.

Amaya tastes like the earthy smell of the training ground and the wax of the metal and oil she uses to keep her leather flexible. As part of the Crown Guard it's lighter than her armor at the Breach, but it's upkept just the same.

When she pulls back slightly, he sees the armor on her chest of drawers and scattered over a chair by the window that gapes open.

It's something he knows well, but Amaya's eyes still strike him whenever she looks at him. They're the deepest shade of brown, leaves in autumn and the hot chocolate she's come to so love during the cold seasons when her fingers ache from the chill. They remind him of the kindling in the fire when they shared a log and shared stories with just their fingers by the light of the blaze.

They're kind and strong and so, so perfect.

Gren leans in again and Amaya meets him halfway.

This kiss doesn't deepen though but Gren isn't mad about it. Night is rapidly falling and the lamps are still burning full wick.

It's late and he can tell by the slump of Amaya's shoulders that she's tired.

_Bedtime,_ he signs.

_I'm thirty-eight,_ Amaya smiles, _I don't have a bedtime._

Gren chuckles, cupping her cheek and running a thumb over the scar under her left eye. _Now you do, Captain. I'll dim the lamps, put your armor up. Do you still have tomorrow off?_

There's a light in Amaya's eyes. _If I do?_

_I'm not saying a single thing more,_ Gren signs as he slides off her lap and holds out his hand. She doesn't need his help to stand.

She takes it anyway.

Gren's hand is as warm as the rest of his body. She mourns the loss of his hand when he moves away after laying a kiss on her calloused knuckles to light the lamps. She moves to her side of the room, puts up her armor, strips methodically and removes her breast bindings before shimmying into a nightgown.

Until now, Amaya has never had the luxury of wearing a nightgown. Who knew that peace would bring about her love of the evening dresses.

Gren certainly doesn't protest her secret love of nightgowns.

After a few minutes, he's dimmed the lamps and she finishes her reading of the field report to slip it into the desk and carry her single candle to the nightstand. With keen eyes, she watches how her General disrobes himself and lays his clothing on the back of the chair as well before turning and raising his eyebrow.

_Like something you see?_

Amaya smirks as she leans forward to lay on her elbows. _More than one something,_  she signs slyly and revels in the blush that burns over Gren's cheeks.

_You're insufferable,_  Gren informs her as he dresses in his own night clothes.

_I would've thought almost a year of marriage would make you used to my pointed affection,_  Amaya chuckles as he sits down on the opposite side of the bed. Without layers of armor and dirt and with the added advantage of full meals and warm baths, her husband's face is rounded and kind.

Gren kisses her sweetly before looking pointedly at the bed.

_You aren't escaping it again,_ he signs haughtily.

_Fine,_  Amaya signs, sighing heavily in mock defeat and sliding under the covers. The open balcony doors make the air sweet and crisp and she delights in the coverlet's warmth against her legs.

It's no secret, Gren's adoration and borderline-worship of her body. Amaya shifts against the sheets and smiles indulgently when Gren's head lays against her chest and he kisses the side of her bicep when it comes around his shoulders.

Gren's legs slot against hers in the sweetest way possible. His comforting warmth against the perpetual chill of her own skin soothes her in a way that she's come to love and anticipate - his admiration of her spans far beyond her shield-arm.

_Goodnight, forsvarer,_  Amaya fingerspells into his palm with her hand that's around his shoulders. Candlelight flickering, she reaches for it, the weight of her exhaustion pulling at her eyelids.

Gren lays his head against her breastbone and smiles. He's finger-spelled that name into her palm a million times, the language of his mothers.

Forsvarer. Defender.

Her defender.

Despite her never needing it, he's her defender.

He's seen General - now Captain - Amaya, his wife, his trusted companion and closest friend, fell armies, defend her country at the extent of her own body. He knows her limits as he knows her strengths as well as he knows the back of his hand.

Amaya's arms are as strong as the heartbeat against his ear. Her arms have held her nephews and her sister and her brother-in-law and now help usher in an unprecedented era of peace they once never dared hope for.

It's a luxury, getting to lay in her arms, completely content.

_Goodnight, mit skjold,_  he signs back and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

Shield.

If he is Amaya's defender, she is his shield. She is the shield of Katolis, the shield of the Royal Throne, the shield of her nephews and her family and of their little bubble, peace-bound and peace-found.

Amaya's smile is palpable against his hair when she smooths her other hand over his hair and presses a kiss of her own to his scalp.

It's inevitable that he will fall asleep first; wrapped in Amaya's arms and cradled by her body fitted against his own. His calves wrap around her feet, despite the chilliness of her toes.

Sometime in the night, she'll wake - whether of nightmares or the rustling beneath her skin that's war-taught for a battle. In that hour, Gren's arms will be the ones wrapped around her own body, his forehead pressed into the space between her shoulder blades and she will drift off to sleep, content.

**Author's Note:**

> go give twitter user xipeuuu some love for her contribution to the gremaya canoe


End file.
